A Matter Of Caste
by VHunter07
Summary: How on earth could such a case at last be found complete? It's true! The Epilogue is FINALLY here! PLEASE R&R! Sequel to: A Matter Of Taste.
1. Authors Note

Hello Everyone!!!

Here's the promised sequel!

Took long enough didn't I? Sorry about that.

I must forewarn that this one may take a little longer in updates as it is not yet finished. With "A Matter of Taste" I didn't post the first chapter until the whole story was complete. But anyway, this one also has a much more complicated story line, so please, if anyone is having trouble following along, let me know, & I'll explain.

Please also note that only dear Lord Hollingsworth, McKee & Smithers are creations of my devious mind. Holmes and Watson are, of course, not mine and EVERY OTHER CHARACTER IS A HISTORICAL FIGURE. Yes, it's true! This story actually has quite a bit of history intertwined, and all characters were alive at some point in time. If anyone would like more information on the actual facts, I will be happy to oblige!

I'm hoping this one will be enjoyed every bit as much as "A.M.O.T.", so please let me know what ya'll think!!

-VHunter


	2. Chapter 1: Darkness

**"A MATTER OF CASTE"**

**Chapter One: Darkness**

She huddled in the corner, doing her best to keep out of the circle of light.

"You have nothing to fear. It shan't be for long."

Hugging her knees to her chin, she made no reply. The man turned and left the room, locking the door behind him. She listened to his steps ascending the stone stairway. When they could no longer be heard, she looked about, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was not terribly small. Neither was it furnished, save for a small cot and wash basin in the corner. She stood and walked over to the basin, peering down at the somewhat dirty water. A tear slid from her cheek, bringing about a ripple in her reflection. She wanted only to go home.


	3. Chapter 2: Plans In The Making

**"A MATTER OF CASTE"**

**Chapter Two: Plans In The Making**

Allan McKee leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished, mahogony desk of his distinguished employer. He been here for over an hour. Performing naught but the tedious task of listening to the foremost member of Parliament rant and rave. McKee was cut out for action, not diplomatics.

"My lord, if you hate him that much, why not just let me do away with him? Quick as a wink it'll be. You choose the method."

The tall, extremely broad shouldered man turned away from gazing at a large map upon his wall.

"McKee, it is not quite that simple. Murder, at least the last time I found it necessary to verify, is still against the law!"

"Aye sir, but there's nothing for it! He's practically an official himself! Any move will be at best stretching the do's and dont's."

The man sat down across from McKee, running a hand through his somewhat wild, snow coloured hair.

"No. No, any retaliation upon my part shall be strictly correct. I will not stoop to such tactics. There is no need whatsoever. It is simply a matter of turning the advantage. Yes..."

He stood and began pacing the room, gesturing with both hands as he warmed to the idea.

"You see McKee, one does not need to resort to illegal activity for justice, no matter the situation. If one is knowledgable enough in the matter, there is always a way."

He laughed suddenly.

"I know from experience 'his' methods are not always without guile. If only we could find some sort of concrete evidence of his temporarily turning against the law...but I fear he is far too efficient for such a mistake."

McKee rose, quite ready to be free of this complicated, plush office."If only we could find a way to _make_ a law against _him_."

When he received no response, he turned to go. "Well sir, I best be getting on."

McKee closed the door quietly and strode down the long, oak paneled hallway, shivering slightly. He couldn't stand this place, it practically wreaked with formality. He couldn't see how his boss could stand it, an office in Buckingham Palace of all places.

Just as he reached the end of the hall, he was startled by a wild cry that came from the said office. Before he had a chance to return, his lordship burst from the room with a wild look upon his face.

"McKee! McKee, my man, you are brilliant!"

McKee blinked in confusion. Though he'd be the first to say he'd been endowed with a certain charming wit, brilliant was perhaps slightly stretching it.

"My lord?"

"Yes, brilliant, I say! Making a law against him is, perhaps, not possible, but we _can_ turn the established law against him! Yes, that is precisely what is to be done!"

"But my lord, we tried that. And that blasted brother of his-"

"No! No, we forced him to oppose the law! There was our error! It was the law that was opposed!"

When McKee failed to give the desired response, he became irate.

"Are you blind man?! The law is impersonal! So long as it is the written law that we use against him, he will never cease to win. He will manage to bend it to his ends every time. But! Should we derive our wishes from the law that had ideas and desires of its' own, desires that meet ours entirely, then! Then where should we stand my friend?"

McKee, began to see the light.

"We should stand to gain considerably from the 'laws' execution of judgement!"

Lord Hollingsworth clapped his operative on the back.

"Precisely, my dear fellow, precisely!"


	4. Chapter 3: Politics

_Ok, ok, I know these two chapters are extremely short & dull, and I do apologize!!!! But I promise the next one will be longer & much more exciting...ok? Good, so you don't have to give up on me entirely...:) _

_Thanks for the reviews everybody!_

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**"A Matter Of Caste"**

Chapter Three: Politics

Sherlock Holmes had never been one to interest himself in politics. That November was the first time I'd ever known him to take part in the elections. But after our rather interesting confrontation with one of the more vociferous members of the government, I was not puzzled in the least by his sudden spell of seemingly patriotism. Unfortunately, his vote still only could be counted as one.

It had been over a week since the voting. Much to our dismay, Lord Hollingsworth won his long held seat in Parliament without any difficulty whatsoever. He was somewhat popular with the people, and due to the fact that our scandalous case which involved him so deeply could not be spoken of, his record was spotless.

Both Holmes and I had attended the last debates, which was also where they would announce the final results. When the outcome was known, my friend and I were the only ones not cheering wildly. When the illustrious lord passed by our seats, the look of open hatred on his countenance turned my blood cold.

I will readily admit to having looked over my shoulder more than once as we walked homeward that night. Holmes seemed unconcerned, too disappointed in the people of his country to be irked by the winners' gloating.

"Well, that's that, I suppose."

"Indeed, Watson. It is most disturbing to see firsthand just how easily the masses of our country can be led astray with an elegant speech and a few grand promises."

"He is good at what he does. And to be completely honest, Holmes, he's never truly steered the country wrong. Other than the Cavenness affair, of course."

"Yes, yes. But I cannot help but believe it is only the calm before the unpreventable storm. His lordship is a man whose foremost motivation is himself. Should the interests of the country, of the people, cross with his own, England will surely emerge the loser."

"Well, perhaps with this last affair he's learned his lesson."

"I sincerely doubt it, though I should be the happiest of men to be proven wrong."


	5. Chapter 4: Opportunities Revealed

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Four: Opportunities Revealed**

Lord Hollingsworth strode purposefully down the corridor. Straightening his black silk cravat, he knocked on the first door to the left.

"Come in."

He did so. "You wanted to see me, Lord Salisbury?" He said, seating himself in front of the great oak paneled desk.

"Yes, Hollingsworth." The Prime Minister of England rose and began to pace back and forth behind his chair.

"I require your advice."

"In what manner?"

Lord Salisbury gave him a look of disbelief. "Surely you know the answer to that!"

"Sir?"

"Oh spare me your feigned naivete, Lord Hollingsworth. You know precisely that of which I speak. This matter is so close to the crown, no one should have an inkling of it's existence, but I know your informants are everywhere. It is not possible that you could be ignorant of such a scandal. It must be resolved immediately. His Royal Highness Prince Edward of Wales, is breathing down my neck, assistance from Scotland Yard is out of the question. It would do more harm than help to make them of use. Yet we simply cannot go on with this, this ticking time bomb over our heads. His Highness adamantly refuses to comply, how much longer can we keep this quiet?"

The Prime Minister resumed his seat before continuing. "Though I loathe to admit it, I am at my wits' end. I cannot see any alternate course of action. It was Her Royal Highness Princess Alexandra, Edwards' wife that suggested we come to you. With your wide range of expertise, Her Highness thought perhaps you might be of some assistance."

"I would be honoured, sir. Since this is by no means a time to suppress the truth: yes, I've known of this affair for quite some time. In fact, one might say I'd anticipated it. Anyone would considering the circumstances."

Lord Hollingsworth rose and leaned forward upon the desk. "Her Highness was correct in coming to me. I have a solution that, should you and Prince Edward choose to give me full precedence, can do naught be succeed. But I shall not work under you fervent gaze, Lord Salisbury. Let me do this my own way, and you will surely not regret it. Have we an agreement?"

Lord Salisbury regarded Hollingsworth for a moment, as if weighing his few options. His desperation finally won out. He stood and clasp his lordship by the hand.

"Agreed. Do whatever you must. But for heavens' sake don't let this be known!"

Lord Hollingsworth bowed deeply. "You may rely fully on my judgment, Lord Salisbury. To be, truthful, I've already taken several steps toward rectifying the matter. Please, allow it to concern you no further."


	6. Chapter 5: The Tale Is Told

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

Chapter Five: The Tale Is Told

It had been somewhat quiet at Baker Street of late. Though I must admit I was in no way irked by this spell of calm, as our most recent case had been rather strenuous. I daresay my friend did not share my contentment.

The first week he was kept busy with the elections. The second, he distracted himself with various chemical experiments that drove Mrs. Hudson and myself out of doors. But by the third week I caught him stealing glances toward the drawer in which the morocco case was locked. Thus, I was exceedingly grateful when directly after breakfast, Tuesday morning, our dear landlady announced that we had a visitor.

Holmes, who had been lounging listlessly upon the couch, fairly ran into his room to dress. Hence, it was I who welcomed the young lady who called upon our services.

I could tell by her demeanor that she was of the working class, though her attire was rather fine. She was a lovely girl, with deep brown hair pulled neatly back to reveal timid, equally dark eyes. She peered about as if expecting something to suddenly accost her. I offered her a chair near the fire as it was rather cold out.

"Please, are you Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" she asked.

"No miss, my name is Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes will be joining us shortly."

She stared down at her gloved hands and said not another word until the desired audience presented himself. Holmes entered the room like an actor stepping from the wings. The girl rose to meet him but he held up a hand in protest.

"Pray let us forgo formal introductions, Miss Helane. I perceive this matter of the Royal House demands immediate attention."

Miss Helane sank into her chair wearing a rather unladylike, open-mouthed expression.

"Why, Mr. Holmes!"

Holmes took the seat opposite her and began to calmly fill his briarwood.

"Please madam, there is no mystery, it is all quite habitual. Your family crest is engraved upon the handkerchief you are grasping somewhat viciously in your left hand. The Helane family has been in the service of the Royal Family for decades. Any matter so desperate that it prompts a maid to seek outside assistance, a course of action that will no doubt be frowned upon by her employers, will, of course, be extremely urgent in nature."

The girl seemed only to be more thoroughly impressed, for she continued to stare at my friend in awe. Holmes sighed deeply and leaned toward her.

"Did you, in fact, have a matter of any importance to lay before me or have you disturbed my friend and I so early this morning only to gape?"

She blushed slightly, regaining her wits. "Yes sir, I mean no sir! I am sorry, I just did not imagine anyone knew of my family so well. But you are right of course, what I have to tell you is very urgent. Oh Mr. Holmes, it's simply terrible!"

The poor girl burst into tears, shielding her face with her handkerchief. My companion arched an eyebrow but made no comment.

"Please Miss Helane, compose yourself, and tell us your problem." I said, pouring her a glass of water.

She sipped it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. "I'm awfully sorry sirs, it's...it's just so terrible."

She sniffed once more and commenced her narrative. "My name is May Helane and I do serve as a personal maid to Her Royal Highness Alexandra, Princess of Wales, wife of Prince Edward. So I know much more than most about household affairs. I believe His Royal Highness the prince, has a bit of a reputation, even outside the palace, of being rather wild. I'm afraid it's quite true. Their marriage is nothing more than a union of diplomacy. There is certainly no love lost between them. It's said that Her Majesty The Queen, his mother, has given Prince Edward leave to do whatever he wants so long as he does it privately and doesn't make a spectacle of himself. And he has abided by her wishes in the past. There were several rumours in the last few years about his involvement with the famous actress Mrs. Lillie Langtry. I'm sure you know of her."

Miss Helane lowered her voice suddenly. "This mustn't go farther than these walls, gentlemen, but there was something between them for quite a while, about six years ago. But we are used to such talk around the palace, and we know better than to say too much to anyone outside. As I said, being Her Highnesses personal maid I hear and see quite a bit."

She stopped to cough modestly into her handkerchief. "And I'm not one to gossip, Mr. Holmes, I'm not. But this business is just so, so dreadful I just can't let it go on, I really can't."

When she showed signs of tearing again, Holmes quickly intervened. "Just what exactly is this frightful predicament, Miss Helane? Palace gossip is of no interest whatsoever to me. Please come to the point."

"Yes sir. Well, it's really Prince Edward and Princess Alexandras' son, Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale. The Dukes' always taken a bit after his father, somewhat free handed with money and morals, you know how it is. Well, last week, I was taking the tea to Her Highness, and passed by Prince Edwards' study. I heard loud voices coming from the room. I recognized the Dukes' voice at once. He and his father were shouting something awful. When I realized it was a personal argument not some crime taking place, I went on with my duties. But not before I heard Prince Edward say something about money and his son responding that he would be sorry. Fights between the Duke and his parents aren't abnormal. So I didn't think a thing about it then. Not until two days ago. Well sirs, we've all known that by now that little affair between the Prince and Mrs. Langtry had long cooled. So Wednesday, when Mrs. Langtry came to see His Highness personally we were all in shock!"

"She came to the palace?"

"Yes! We could hardly believe it! She came disguised, of course, but we all knew it was her. Even before, when they'd been on 'friendly' terms, she'd _never_ come to the palace!"

"I should think not. And how did His Highness respond to this sudden breach of propriety?"

"Why, he was furious! When James, Prince Edwards valet, announced her, His Highness said that he would see her in his study, and to bring her up the back way. We saw her go by from Her Highnesses rooms. Thank goodness the princess was out! Not that she didn't know about their past, but it is always best to...but as I was saying; we saw her, but heard nothing of their conversation. But James told me...well, James and I sometimes take walks together after supper, and since he stands just outside the study door he couldn't help but over hear them. Not that he would be telling anyone-"

"Yes, yes Miss Helane, I'm sure James is renowned for his reliability, now what exactly did he hear?"

The girl glanced about her and scooted forward in her chair, as if to divulge some grave secret. "There'd been some rumour that Mrs. Langtry had a daughter. It was thought that the girl was fathered by Prince Louis of Battenberg. But now, well, James said that he was able to hear nearly everything that was said. Prince Edward demanded to know the reason for her intrusion. Mrs. Langtry flatly told him to be silent for there was no other way. James heard sporadic bits and pieces of their conversation, but it seems that Lillie Langtrys' daughter, Jeanne Marie, is, in fact, His Highnesses child! They've kept it quite a secret, no one hardly knows the girl even exists. But sir, she's disappeared! From her boarding school down in Durham. Prince Edward said she would have to be found at once, or all would be known. Mrs. Langtry told him that she'd received some kind of communication. She must have given it to him to read because they were quiet for a moment. Then the Prince swore loudly. 'That damnable fool!' he cried. 'That utter damnable fool!' Mrs. Langtry asked him what was to be done. 'I should have foreseen that something like this would happen,' he said. 'He came to me last week for money to pay off some debt or another. I should've known he'd try something like this!' They continued to discuss it, but never came to any kind of solution. Knowing what I heard of between the Duke and his father last week, James and I just know that the Duke has done something with that child! He needed money to pay off his debtors and His Highness wouldn't give him any, so he's blackmailing his father, I just know it! Prince Edward won't relent, he won't give in for anything, and that poor little girl will be the one who's punished for it. Can't you help her Mr. Holmes? I don't have any money to pay you, but since it's such an urgent matter I though that perhaps you wouldn't mind. If you could get her back, His Highness might-"

"No, I would accept nothing from His Highness. This is a grave matter indeed, Miss Helane. Are you certain you have told me every detail?"

"Yes sir, certainly. Everything just as I remember it. Of course, there is a possibility that the whole thing is such a wild fancy of mine. Prince Edward and Mrs. Langtry could've been talking on some other matter but since there's just the slightest chance-"

"Yes, I feel the situation warrants some attention. Miss Helane, I do not foresee that further communication with you will in any way be necessary as you are only indirectly involved. If you should discover anything of importance, do not hesitate to contact me, but for now I wish you a very good day and thank you most sincerely for bringing this matter to my attention."

I showed Miss Helane out before she could respond to his rapid dismissal. I could not help but slip her half a sovereign for her trouble, which she readily accepted. After all, she had risked her position in telling us of the misfortunes of this poor child. I returned to find Holmes deep in thought, smoking heavily.

"It is beyond comprehension, is it not Watson, what devilry idle minds are capable of?"

"What do you intend to do?"

He stood, laid his pipe upon the sideboard and reached for his hat. "First, to ascertain whether or not this account and its' facts bear an iota of truth. You need not come just yet, I will be back before supper with a more definite course of action in mind."

I attempted to turn my attention to the mornings paper but was continually drawn back to the matter placed before us. How could someone use a child as a bargaining tool? What kind of monsters sat in the seats of our government? The more I knew of the personal sides of our officials, the more disconcerted I became. I could not help but wonder what the next few weeks held in store for myself and my renowned companion.


	7. Chapter 6: Buckingham Palace

_Ok, sorry this chapter took so long, I hope it will be worth the wait! I will say this one was a TON of fun to write! hehe Well, enjoy & please review!_

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**"A Matter Of Caste"**

Chapter Six: Buckingham Palace

I have lived in London for the better part of my life, yet had never visited Buckingham Palace nor aspired to, until this particular case was thrust upon us. Thus my reason for laughing when Holmes suggested it upon his return the next morning. I thought surely he was joking. When I discovered that he was, in fact, quite serious, I was shocked. Retired general practitioners had positively no business in or about the royal household. What on earth should I say to them? The very idea made me ill. Therefore, when Holmes firmly stated his desire to go, I elected to remain behind. He would not hear of it. Though later he would admit that perhaps my declination to join him should have been accepted.

We took a hansom to the east gate of the palace, but upon the time of entrance, I was somewhat reluctant to relinquish my seat.

"Holmes, are you certain this is the only course of action to be taken? Perhaps we should try something else first. Yes, shouldn't we look for the child? After all her safety is foremost."

"That is precisely what we are doing, Watson. The most efficient and direct way to locate the girl is to confront the root of the problem. If we are able to meet with the Prince, or possibly even his son the Duke, it shall, no doubt, aid us considerably in discerning the whereabouts of the child." He said impatiently.

"But Holmes-" I began.

"Are you coming, Watson, or must I go alone?"

I sighed deeply and disembarked. As the heavy, iron gates clanged shut behind us, I found myself gazing back longingly at our cab. I glanced over at the stern, determined countenance of my companion, and forced myself steadily onward.

Upon displaying our calling cards, we were allowed to wait in the foyer. I admit that I did not imagine our names held any leverage whatsoever in a place such as this, but I was wrong. An immaculately attired butler came to lead us to the study of His Royal Highness, Prince Edward of Wales and heir to the throne of England.

We were taken down several corridors and up a winding staircase. The richness of the place astounded me. I suppose I expected something of it, but I had not began to imagine such as there was. The staircase up which we walked, was of ivory with rails of hammered gold. Intricate floral designs ran throughout the steps. Literal life size paintings of past monarchs adorned the walls about us. Three crystal chandeliers, one of which would not have fit in our sitting room, hung on golden ropes from the vaulted ceiling. Holmes did not seem impressed by this greatness. He never looked right nor left but seemed to be attempting to bore holes into the butlers red velvet coat. I was rather winded by the time we reached an impressive mahogany door which I presumed led to His Highnesses' study. Our guide introduced us, and bid us enter.

The room was in no way disappointing. In shelves that reached to the high roof, were lined books of every shape, size, colour and language. A miniature of the fixtures aforementioned gave light to this room. Behind the largest and most neatly kept desk I have ever seen, sat the man which we sought. Holmes and I bowed deeply and were bade to sit. His Highness was well suited for his office. A large man though of average height, with a solid business demeanor. His flint like blue eyes seemed to convey a message of no nonsense. I feared Holmes would not get far with this man. He lifted my friends' card from the desk before him.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I presume?"

"I am."

"And you must be Dr. John Watson. Tell me rapidly gentlemen, what you wish of me, for I have little time to spare."

This man did not mince words. I looked to Holmes for his reaction. He was unreadable as ever.

"Your Highness, we wish to know the whereabouts of your daughter, Miss Jeanne Marie Langtry."

Prince Edward was up and around the desk before the last word was complete. He leaned closely toward Holmes.

"What did you say?"

"I do not believe you have any difficultly in hearing, Your Highness."

"And how came you, to know of this?"

"I have many clients Your Highness, none of whom could place in me their trust should I so cavalierly throw about their names."

"Who sent you!?"

"No one."

"Your lying!"

Holmes stood so abruptly that the Prince was nearly knocked over his desk back into his chair. "I did not wish for our interview to be an unpleasant one, but if you insist sir, I shall follow your example in the forgoing of formalities. Your illegitimate daughter is missing, taken by your son and heir, Prince Albert the Duke of Clarence and Avondale, who hopes to illicit funds from you by this course of action. I involve myself only in the interests of the child, whose well being, I feel quite assured, will not be taken into consideration by either party concerned."

His Highness raised his arm as if to strike, I prepared for a disturbance, but all was halted by the sound of the study door banging open. In strode a tall young man, no more than twenty and five. Even to the casual observer one could tell that this was the Duke.

"Well, Father, have you-" He caught sight of us and halted mid-sentence. "What's this then?"

His father met him half way and turned back to face us.

"These men, I believe, have more business with you Albert, than with I."

The Duke looked disdainfully at us. "Business with me? Whatever do you mean? What could they possibly want with me?"

Holmes gave the Prince no chance to respond. "I wish to know, Your Grace, what you have done with your half sister."

The Duke fell back against the door and looked as if he should faint. "What the devil-"

"Yes, I know about your disgraceful conduct, and I demand that you rectify it at once!" Holmes said, taking a step forward.

The Prince stepped between them. "How dare you! Just exactly who do you think you are? You have stepped from your bounds, Sherlock Holmes, you have no right to make demands here. _I _demand that you leave at once!"

I had stood by quietly through all their ravings, but when Prince Edward forcefully took hold of Holmes to throw him from the room, I resolved to be still no longer. Before I realized what I was doing, I grabbed the Prince and shoved him aside.

"Who do you think _you_ are sir!? You, who cares more for his cursed reputation than for the safety of his own child! You touch him again and by heaven sir, I'll not answer for what follows!"

"Watson-"

Holmes was interrupted by a shout of anger from His Highness, whose fist suddenly came into rather close quarters with my face. I quickly caught him by the wrist and flung him back against the wall. The Duke took to his heels down the hall, shouting for aid. I prepared myself for the next onslaught, but Holmes jumped between us, blocking Prince Edwards' next blow with his arm.

"Your Highness, I do not believe either of us wish to make this little confrontation public, as it would do no good to Your Highnesses' desire to keep the matter private. Neither I nor my friend shall make mention of it, we are now aware that neither you nor the Duke wish to be of any assistance in this endeavor. As I perceive our absence is greatly desired, we wish you a very pleasant afternoon. Come Watson!"

I must say I was just beginning to enjoy myself, but Holmes backed me out of the study, watching the Prince carefully.

"Unfortunately I must agree, Mr. Holmes. Oh, that this were not so delicate, I should have both of your heads for this outrage!"

The Duke entered with three guards in tow. Pointing wildly he shouted, "There! Those are the men!"

"No!" His father said, to his obvious surprise. "We cannot make a scene of this. Go back to your posts. And you Albert, get out of my sight! The answer is still no!"

The Duke cursed loudly and left, as did the guards.

"Now get out, both of you. And should you step foot upon my grounds again, be aware that you place yourself in danger of the gravest sort."


	8. Chapter 7: The Jersey Lily

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Eight: The Jersey Lily**

I must say that our descent progressed much swifter due to the aid of several strong looking palace guards who were in no mood for leisure. They did not leave us until our cab pulled away from the kerb.

We were nearly half way home when my thoughts of vengeance were interrupted by the silent, quaking laughter of my companion. When I asked him just what he found to be so amusing, his laughter only became audible.

"We...we two 'lowly' subjects are given an audience with the Prince of Wales, the man who will, at any given moment, wear the crown of England upon his head. And you...my friend, you cuff him about as if he were a common ruffian!"

"But Holmes! The man practically-"

He stopped me with a wave of his hand. "In consideration of his past actions and of those he shall, no doubt commit before this little affair is complete, you were perfectly justified in your actions."

We alighted, paid our fare and ascending the steps to our rooms. "But Holmes, what do you intend to do? We learned positively nothing from His Highness nor from the Duke."

"On the contrary, Watson, I learned a great deal."

"Oh?"

"I learned that His Highness has not yet acquiesced to his sons' demands. Nor is he likely to do so. Thus the girl, Jeanne Marie, is still being used as leverage. The question now is only to locate her place of confinement, and remove her from the Dukes' power."

"But how can we possibly know where she is? With the Dukes' connections and pocketbook she could be anywhere from here to Paris!"

"Not so, Watson. You will recall that it is for money which he is holding her, thus we know his pocketbook is somewhat strained. As to his connections, since they are the reason for his financial stress, I perceive they might not be so helpful in this endeavor. I dare say that the child is within his immediate reach. Should his father relent, the Duke would need to return her quickly."

Holmes lit his briarwood and curled up in the basketchair before the fire.

"What is our next move then?"

It was several moments before he responded. "Do you not find it odd, that so little has been heard from Mrs. Langtry in all of this?"

"Who?"

"The girls' mother, His Royal Highnesses' former mistress."

"Well, it was she who informed the Prince of their child's abduction."

"Precisely! She 'informed' him. Rather a casual reaction for a mother whose daughter has just been kidnapped, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, I suppose it is, but perhaps-"

Holmes leapt from his seat, flung his pipe upon the mantle piece and made for the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we hailed a cab.

"21 Pont Street!" He shouted to the cabby. "I perceive a visit with the illustrious Mrs. Lillie Langtry shall prove to be our most productive course of action."

I sighed heavily and climbed into the hansom. I'd rather had my fill of the upper classes, at least for one evening.

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Money was the first word which entered the vocabulary upon the site of 21 Pont Street. Employing the deductive powers for which my friend is so well known, I could easily see that she who resided here had not always known such affluence. The room in which we sat waiting was lavishly furnished. A little too lavishly. The green velvet and silk draperies, the snow white carpets, the cushion-backed chairs ornamented with golden engravings all spoke of too much wealth and too little on which to spend it.

I had seen Mrs. Langtry once or twice upon the stage and considered her to be quite an accomplished actress. Affectionately known as the 'Jersey Lily', she was breathtaking in performance, and had been gifted with the voice of an angel. I admit that the notion of gathering information from her was much more accommodating than from that of our royal personages.

We'd been waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour before the lady of the house saw fit to acknowledge our presence. Holmes had long ceased to sit calmly, and was wearing a line in her lovely carpet when she entered. She wore a silken dressing gown of a deep burgundy colour; her rich, dark hair spilling about her shoulders. I did my utmost to hide my embarrassment at her attire, but fear that I quite failed.

"Pray be swift in your conversation, gentlemen, as I have little time for idle speech." She said in a distinctly American accented voice that was as luxurious as our surroundings.

Holmes stopped his pacing directly before her. "I shall do my utmost, Mrs. Langtry, but I fear the power of altering the length of our visit rests entirely in your hands."

She bid him be seated and took a chair across from us.

"I will be direct, Madame. We've come for any information you might have on the disappearance of your daughter."

If she was surprised in the least by our knowledge of the kidnapping, she did not show it.

"What makes you think I would know anything about that?" She said, calmly brushing a speck of lint from her sleeve.

"Mrs. Langtry, this is your child we are discussing. Can you aid us in any way in disclosing her whereabouts? There is a great possibility that she is in danger."

She stared at Holmes with her almond shaped, blue grey eyes, as if he were mad.

"May I ask what business it is of yours? Neither I nor Edward have required your assistance."

Holmes breathed in deeply, obviously attempting to maintain control. While I too found the situation somewhat exasperating, I could not help but be impressed with the coolness and superiority of her demeanor. This was certainly a woman who had learned, by experience, how men were to be dealt with.

"I question you, Mrs. Langtry, only for the sake of the child. It is she who is suffering at the hands of the Duke, while neither of her parents care to come to her aid. I must inform you Madame, that we will not quit this residence until you answer my questions."

"And if I should have you removed, what then?"

"I believe I may speak for Dr. Watson as well as myself when I say that we are not so easily deterred."

She shrugged her slim shoulders in a careless manner. "Very well. I see no reason to withhold what little information I have, as it seems you know a great deal already. She was taken from her boarding school, Barnard Castle in Durham. She went to bed the same time as the other girls and was gone the subsequent morning. No one saw or heard anything unusual. None of her belongings were taken. I was informed at once. The same evening I received a telegram stating that if I wished to see the child again, I would persuade Edward to transfer 5,000£ into the account of Prince Albert, Duke of Clarence and Avondale. I took the note directly to Edward, as I knew full well he would consider the matter of grave importance."

"And you do not?"

"You demanded that I enlighten you as to the facts of her disappearance, Mr. Holmes, and I have done so. Your immediate exit would be greatly appreciated."

"Might I see the telegram you received?"

"No. I left it with Edward. Was he not willing to show it to you?"

Holmes stood to leave, as it was quite clear that we would learn nothing further from Mrs. Langtry. She rose also and turned to depart by the side door from which she came.

"Before I go, Mrs. Langtry, I must be clear on one point."

She halted but did not turn to face us. "Was your daughter aware of the lack of affection you hold for her?"

"Get out." She said, completing her departure as we did the same.


	9. Chapter 8: The Lyceum

_I'm reeelly sorry this story is taking so dang long in the making. I know it's been kinda slow, but I think we're FINALLY getting to some action here! At least somewhat. Thanks so much everyone for the kind reviews! This section has really been busy lately! Welcome to all the new authors out there! You guys are awesome & we're proud to have you!_

_Also, I had a quick question: Does anyone know whatever happened to __K.J. Briseis?_ _She is the very talented author of "No Place Like Holmes". Last time I talked to her, she was afraid that a flood coming was going to destroy her home. I don't know if anyone knows her or not, I was just kinda worried._

_Anyway, here's the next chapter & I hope you enjoy! And if you do, PLEASE REVIEW! _

_XOXO_

_VHunter_

* * *

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Eight: The Lyceum **

"What a positively infuriating female! That woman eclipses the whole of her sex in sheer stubbornness!" Holmes practically shouted as we sat down to dinner upon our return to Baker Street.

"I can not understand why Mrs. Langtry doesn't _want_ to help you find her daughter! It's inconceivable that a mother, of all people, should behave so."

"I'm afraid it's more conceivable than we often realize, Watson. Illegitimate children such as Jeanne Marie are mere side affects. They hold little or no value in the eyes of they who parent them. They are more often than not shoved aside or sent away so as to be brought into memory as little as possible. In such situations I foresee a time that these offending children will simply be done away with when they prove inconvenient. Yes, a great deal of evil goes on, to which the people of England turn a blind eye. I shudder to think how far such a state of mind could take us."

It truly broke my heart to think of that dear little girl being held as a prisoner by her own half brother. The man was surely a monster to even concoct such a scheme. I could not help but wonder if the entirety of her young life had been comprised of such ill usage.

I looked across the table at my friend who sat indolently pushing his untouched food about his plate. I knew that he would not rest until the child was free. But even if we did somehow manage to find her, would she not still be set amongst these moraless people? In the final outcome what good could we possibly do her? And how were we to combat against the crowned heads of Europe? What had we to use in our defence? As far as I could see our hands were empty and bound, and there was no way that it could be done. Yet something must be done!

"Do you know where the girl is being kept, Holmes?...Holmes?"

He jumped slightly at my sudden disruption of our mutual silence.

"I have one or two theories, yes."

"And?"

Thrusting his chair back from the table, he took a cigarette from the case on the sideboard.

"I have aforementioned that I believe her to be in close contiguity to the Duke. Thus it is only a matter of knowing the places which he frequents."

Drawing deeply upon the freshly lit cigarette, Holmes began to pace the length of carpet before the fire.

"Watson, take down the 'V' section of 'Who's Who' from the shelf, won't you?"

The listing for Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale was not a difficult one to locate.

"'Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale - Albert Victor Christian Edward - Born 8th of January, 1864 at Frogmore House, Windsor, Berkshire. A member of the Royal Family, the eldest son of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales and Alexandra of Denmark. Prince Albert is second in the line of succession to the throne after his father. The Prince was christened in the private chapel of Buckingham Palace on the 10th of March, 1864 by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Charles Thomas Longley. His godparents are-'"

"Come Watson, I am hardly interested such insignificant drivel. Is there nothing pertaining to our immediate inquiries?"

"Well, let me see, 'When they returned to Europe, the brothers were parted and Albert Victor attended Trinity College at Cambridge in 1883...leaving in 1885 he was sent to join the Army...' Ah, here's something! 'Known to be a member of the 'The Army and Navy Club', frequents the Lyceum Theatre...visits the popular museums...is often seen at the Junction Track in Suffolk. Rumoured to be engaged to Princess Alix of Hesse-'"

"That will do, surely Watson. The Army and Navy Club, the Lyceum Theatre and Junction Track. His three foremost haunts...It is most unlikely that even His Grace would be able to keep her at the club. It has the reputation of being a respectable establishment."

"I doubt he could hide her at the track without someone hearing or seeing her. So many hundreds of people roam over those grounds."

"Quite so. That leaves us with only the Lyceum. Now, I've taken the liberty of putting the Duke under surveillance. If he makes a move, we shall know of it. There is, of course, the possibility that he has her secured under his very roof, but I think that prospect highly unlikely. The possibility of it being searched is far too great for such an oversight. She could be at none of these, he might have her with some friend or paid associate. But I do not believe that he has any confederate in this little scheme. The least noticeable location would be one which he frequents. It is known that he is often at the theatre, what better place to hold her? After all, he cannot let her starve to death and therefore must visit her at least once every other day. "

Holmes was silent for several moments, still pacing furiously as if in some deep, internal struggle. He stopped suddenly before the window and peered out into the night. Finally he seemed to reach a decision.

"Come Watson, there's not a moment to lose!" He cried, dashing into his bedroom.

"Where are we going?"

"We shall disguise ourselves as two gentlemen of disreputable dispositions and relieve Wiggins of his post."

"Of watching the Duke?"

"Precisely. That was one of his messengers there at the window. His Grace is off! Now be quick man!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

A quarter to 11:00pm found Holmes and I seeking refuge from the nights' chill in the doorway of an old pawn shop just across the street from the Lyceum Theatre. Both of us were dressed entirely as men of lesser means. We'd been there since 9:30, the beginning of tonight's' performance of Macbeth. The streets were nearly deserted.

Every so often a figure or two could be spotted flitting about in the deep shadows, but all was relatively quiet. It was remarkable, the absolute silence that surrounded us in the midst of so great a city. Once the sound of applause had drifted out to our ears from the crowds inside the theatre. Holmes had remarked that it must be intermission.

The wind grew stronger as I checked my watch again. 11:00pm. That play should surely be over soon, I thought to myself. I shifted my feet in a vain attempt to keep warm. My companion appeared to be unaffected by the frigid temperature. Although most of his face was concealed by the up-turned collar of his threadbare overcoat, his attentive grey eyes were just visible under his wide brimmed hat. They roved up and down the street, no doubt seeing countless things of whose existence I was ignorant.

Just as I began to consider a plea for temporary retreat, Holmes grasped my arm.

"The curtain falls in fifteen minutes. Let us make our move." He whispered.

I was unaware that any 'move' had been in contemplation, yet I was given no opportunity to press the issue as Holmes had already began making his way across the street.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lord Hollingsworth lifted the opera glasses to his eyes. Yes, this William Hunter-Kendal was certainly an actor of the first rate. He glanced down at the numerous patrons below his private box. His lordship was forced to admit that he was somewhat disappointed. He'd fully expected some action to be taken tonight. Well, well one should not expect too much...even from the best.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Instead of heading for the front entrance, we slipped round into the side alley. Rather than making use of the conventional back door, Holmes, using a pen knife, lifted the window of what appeared to be the men's' dressing rooms.

"But Holmes, what if there's someone in there?"

"It's far too near the final curtain for anyone to be in the dressing rooms. They will all surely be just inside the wings. Now, I shall enter while you stand just here and keep watch."

"But if you should need me-"

"If I should require your immediate assistance, my friend, I shall make certain that you are aware of it."

Using several convenient old crates, Holmes hoisted himself in through the window. It was a rather narrow opening but he managed to affect a mostly silent entry.

Standing upon the crates myself, I was able to watch as he made his way through the cluttered rooms. At last reaching the door, he gave me a final nod of encouragement, and was gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"But I must see his lordship at once!"

"I'm so terribly sorry sir, but the performance is still in progress. I simply cannot allow you in just yet, sir. If you'll just wait over there, please."

McKee growled in frustration. He did not have time for this foolishness. Removing his revolver from an inside pocket he turned back to face the obstinate little usher.

"See here, you take me to Lord Hollingsworth's' box in less than sixty seconds or I'll see to it that there's an open position for theatre attendant, understand?"

Needless to say the fellow instantly became more compliant. Amazing what a little 'gentle' persuasion could do.

"Y-yes sir, j-just come with m-me sir!"

"Thank you."

The little man did not respond but led McKee up two flights of red-carpeted stairs to three great doors marked '3', '6', and '9'.

"He's in n-number six, sir!"

"Very good. Now, you run along and his lordship will be certain to explain everything later, just don't you worry."

McKee knocked quietly before opening the door of box six.

"Your lordship?"

"Yes? What news McKee?"

McKee smiled to himself, knowing his news was just precisely what his employer wished to hear. "Sherlock Holmes just broke in through the men's' dressing room window, sir. He's hid himself just outside the Dukes' box."

His lordships' face practically glowed with anticipation. He grasped McKee by the shoulder. "Excellent work my man! And where is the doctor?"

"Just outside, standing guard."

"Superb! Now, here's what is to be: you and I shall go and welcome the detective, inform him of the true origins of his little predicament."

"You want to arrest him for breaking in, sir?"

"Heavens no! After all his questionable actions were only committed in the name of a good cause. We really must make some allowance in the face of such honourable intentions."

"I suppose so, sir. I'll go get Smithers."

"No no! I've a very special assignment for Smithers; he will not be joining us. Here, take this note to him, and see that this one is delivered into the hands of the Duke."

Thunderous applause erupted from all around as the actors stepped forward to accept their much deserved praise. Lord Hollingsworth stood and joined the audience in giving them a standing ovation. Yes, it had been a most marvelous performance indeed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

McKee sent the message to the Duke by way of his formerly acquainted usher, and checked to see if the detective was still in his place. Yes, just in between the hallway wall and that last column. So perfectly still that he seemed to be part of the stone work. If McKee had not watched him squeeze into the space he would never have noticed him there at all.

McKee leaned casually against the opposite wall, tugging at his dark green cravat. He wasn't used to all this finery, but Lord Hollingsworth said they'd be less conspicuous this way.

He looked through the exiting crowd, seeking his lordship. There. He and the Duke were just coming out. McKee pushed against the steady stream of people and reached them as they made for that last pillar. Discreetly removing his revolver, he pressed the barrel against the side of the vagabond behind the column.

"Yes, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" Lord Hollingsworth suddenly boomed. "We are quite aware of your unsolicited presence."

McKee would have to admit that he enjoyed the momentary look of surprise that passed over the mans' face. It wasn't every day that you fooled the likes of him.

"It seems this little rendezvous was predetermined." Holmes said, instantly returning to his cavalier demeanor. "I will readily admit surprise at your presence, Lord Hollingsworth. Could it be that you also have a hand in this grotesque affair, or are you merely a guest of His Grace tonight?"

His lordship laughed heartily. "Ah, my dear boy, I have a hand in more than you could possibly know. But this is neither the time nor the place."

The Duke jumped in suddenly, shaking an angry forefinger in Holmes' face. "You followed me here, you, you infernal nuisance! Just who do you think you are? This is a private matter of the royal household, and absolutely none of your concern!"

"In the interests of the child whom you have so horribly wronged, I make it my concern. And I promise you that I shall not rest until justice is done."

"I'll hang you for this!" His Grace bellowed.

Lord Hollingsworth raised a hand. "Now really, Your Grace, should we not show a little lenience in this particular situation? I do not think Mr. Holmes intended any wrong doing. These commoners do not always understand affairs of state. There's been no real harm done this time. We shall give you another chance, Mr. Holmes. But you truly must learn how to properly conduct yourself in the future."

Holmes bowed. "Just so, your lordship. And I shall begin by going through this theatre until I find the child."

He turned to ascend the stairway to the second floor.

"Oh, I think not sir, as there are other, quite pressing matters which, you must know, require your immediate attention."

Holmes stopped but did not turn back, as Lord Hollingsworth continued.

"I greatly fear that your associate has the makings of a very poor sentential. Yes, my man Smithers will surely find no great difficultly in removing him. Dear me, I do hope McKee did not fail to mention that I wished him not to make use of his gun."

McKee pocketed his own weapon, knowing that there would no longer be any need of it.


	10. Chapter 9: An Old Acquaintance

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Nine: An Old Acquaintance**

For what seemed like the one hundredth time I stepped up onto the crate and peered inside the dressing room. The actors had returned and were presently donning their contemporary attire. Still there was no sign of Holmes.

The streets were not so quiet as when first we arrived. The sound of feminine laughter, men's voices shouting out for carriages and horses hooves upon the cobblestones filled the night air. It was past midnight. I looked anxiously up and down the street. Where on earth could he be? Just as I turned once more to the window, a strangely familiar voice startled me.

" 'Ere now, Dr. Watson, you ain't supposed to be back 'ere, sir. I've got a message for you from Mr. 'Olmes."

"Where is he?"

"Oh, I expect he's right busy at the moment, but if you'd jus' follow me..."

I did so, not bothering to try and remember from where I remembered his voice. The man led me down several passages to what looked like an old warehouse. In my concern for Holmes I did not consider the danger. He stopped before the door.

"Well?" I asked impatiently. "Where is he?"

Pushing the weather beaten door inwards, he motioned me inside. I began to suspect a poorly laid trap. I side-stepped into the warehouse, being careful not to lose sight of my companion.

With the exception of one small candle in a holder hanging by the door, it was utterly dark. I studied my surroundings but kept a wary eye on my guide. Which was just as well, for the moment I appeared to have turned my back he swung a thick board at my head.

Having anticipated the assault, I ducked backwards. Catching the man by his left arm, I swung him into the wall. The entire structure shuddered with the impact. But my attacker was not so easily deterred. He threw the board aside and I glimpsed only a rapid flash of silver before his knife sliced across my right arm. Doing my utmost to ignore the pain, I took up his cast aside weapon. With the long piece of wood I was able to block his next two onslaughts. The man was quick, but extremely clumsy in his movements. It would not be difficult to debilitate him. His next attempt I did not block, but side-stepped. Thus bringing myself into an excellent position to bring my board severely against the back of his head. Twice was enough for my would be assailant to sink to the floor. Taking the candle from the wall I turned him over only to find a face I knew quite well. It was Smithers! One of Lord Hollingsworth's men!

What on earth could he want with me? My next thought was for my friend. If Smithers had known where I was then Holmes must've walked directly into an entrapment.

Leaving Smithers where he lie, I turned to run to the aid of my companion. Only I'd no idea which way we'd come. I was forced to calm myself and attempt to retrace our steps.

It was a full hour before, with the aid of an obliging beggar, I was able to re-locate the Lyceum Theatre. The place was closed and bolted. There were absolutely no signs of life. I cursed myself for getting lost.

Where on earth could Holmes be?

I searched round the building several times over. I even attempted to break in through the dressing room window. It was completely inaccessible.

Not knowing what else was to be done, I hailed a cab for Baker Street.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­----------------------------------------------------------------------

Mrs. Hudson had neither heard nor seen anything of Holmes. It was obvious he'd not returned home. Our dear landlady served me an extremely late supper but I could hardly touch it.

Glancing at my watch I noted that the time was nearly three in the morning. Abandoning the idea of food, I adjourned to my chair before the blazing fire.

I was at an utter loss as to what I was to do. I reasoned with myself that Holmes had more than likely run off following some lead and had simply forgotten to send word. But I was unable to convince myself.

I settled deeply into my chair in an attempt to ease my aching shoulders and was rewarded with searing pain in my right arm. In light of the situation, my wound had been pushed from my mind. I moved to get my medical bag to dress it. Though only slight, it had bled somewhat extensively.

Having seen to my injuries, I returned to my seat determined to discern just where my vanished friend might have gone. Yet, it would seem the stressfulness of the day, and my understandable fatigue at the lateness of the hour overcame my greatest intentions. I drifted off to sleep with my many questions still quite unanswered.


	11. Chapter 10: Remembrance

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Ten: Remembrance**

She used the sleeve of her night dress to wipe the tears from her face. It was so dark, so very dark. The candle atop the wash stand did little to permeate the dank atmosphere. A slight whimper escaped her lips, echoing through the blackness, ricocheting off walls she could not see.

Why? She thought. Why am I here?

She simply did not understand. She closed her eyes tightly, attempting to block out the unwanted images that presented themselves.

She'd still been awake that night. It was quite late, past midnight, but she could not sleep. The window had been open, against the wishes of the nurse, of course. A chilling autumn breeze had been gently blowing. She had finally closed her eyes, clutching her doll tightly, when-

No! No, she did not want to remember.

She examined her surroundings once again, allowing fresh tears to spill freely down her already stained cheeks.

Would anyone ever find her down here?

Was anyone even looking?


	12. Chapter 11: Dire Decisions

CHAPTER 11:

THE CHAPTER SHERLOCKIANGIRL IS FORCING ME TO  
WRITE"

_Alright, ya happy now?!?!?!? _

_Sheesh. :) Ok, Sorry this chapter is so short & somewhat anti-climatical. (whoa, is that a word??) The next chapter will be pretty much the end, well, actually almost but not quite. Anyway, I don't know why I've made this sequel so darn long & slow, but we're finally winding down! rlol Thanks so much for all your wonderful feedback & keep it coming! _

_P.S. Oh yeah, HOLMES IS BACK! Everybody satisfied now? Gosh, you'd think ya'll like the guy or something...:)_

_-VHunter_

* * *

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Eleven: Dire Decisions**

The slamming of the front door and the pounding of feet upon the stair awoke me with a start. It was not yet light. Considering the delicacy of our present investigation, I felt it was not foolish to entertain the idea of it being an unwelcome guest. Grabbing the steel poker from aside the mantle, I turned the lamp down and placed myself strategically behind the door.

It was a man who entered, from what I could discern in the low fire light. He strode in confidently and poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter on the side board. As silently as I could manage, I crept up behind him and raised my weapon. He would not be reported back to his master tonight.

Before I could fulfill my intentions, the man spun round and halted my blow with one hand while still holding his glass in the other.

"Watson!" he shouted.

"Holmes! What on earth are you doing here!?"

"I beg your pardon, but have I neglected to pay the rent?"

"Well no, but I thought you had been...well that you were...well, where the devil _have_ you been?!"

He laughed at my immense confusion and poured me a glass of brandy which I gratefully accepted.

"To be truthful my friend, I've been out searching for you. And quite fervidly I might add."

"Looking for me?"

"Certainly. I returned to your designated position to find you vanished. You and an unknown companion were by no means difficult to follow to that abandoned warehouse. Where there was naught to be found save signs of a struggle, a spent candle, and a rather sinister looking blood stain upon the floor. What was I to think in view of the scruples of our known opposition? I've scoured every back alley in London." He said, collapsing into his chair.

"Holmes, I'm so sorry. Though I thought as much of you. You'll not be able to guess just who that 'companion' of mine was! He-"

"Simon Smithers."

"How did you know?"

"For the very simple reason that while he was misleading you, I was being enjoying the delightful company of his infamous employer.

I dropped onto the sofa in a state of shock. "Lord Hollingsworth is in this business!?"

Holmes nodded but said nothing.

"But what could his interest possibly be? What could he gain from this affair?"

"Ashamedly, Watson, I cannot even begin to surmise. I can conjecture no possible reason for his obvious involvement. And he has been involved from the commencement! He knew precisely where we would be, Watson! It is clear that we have been under constant surveillance."

Holmes rose to fill his pipe. "And another point of distinction: Why should he deliberately reveal his presence to me? Why would he purposely-"

He ceased abruptly and turned to face me. "Unless! Unless Watson, this has been his game from the start!"

"But Holmes it was a girl from the princesses' service who brought it to your attention."

"Was it?"

"You think she was lying? But you said yourself that you recognized the family crest and-"

"No, I believe every word she spoke was the complete and total truth. But was it she who decided to bring the matter before me? Or was she directed to act as she did?"

"But what purpose would that serve? To meet what end?"

"To be rid of me perhaps?" He replied solemnly.

"Oh Holmes, surely not! I don't think Lord Hollingsworth would attempt to kill you outright, it's not his way."

"He should not be the one to pull the trigger, he need not even be present. There are those that, I am ashamed to say, are considered above the law. For the pathetic reason that they _are_ the law."

I leaned back against the sofa, finally grasping his full meaning. If Holmes was correct, then his lordship could easily arrive at his desired conclusion without ever lifting a finger. Even if he was forced to act personally, whatever crimes he committed would be commended as services to the crown.

"Why, this is monstrous!"

"Indeed, my friend. But in an indirect way, his latest actions have been most helpful."

"How so?"

"We now know precisely where they are holding the child."

"Where?"

"Why did Lord Hollingsworth takes such great pains to be certain that I would not search the building? He wants me to locate her, but not when there were well over one hundred witnesses so nearby. He had to be sure that I would be distracted for some time. Hence, Smithers' attack upon you."

"If they know you've discerned the girls' place of confinement, and they expect us to come, and their only intention is murder, then what can we possibly do?"

"We must act without further delay."

"But Holmes, they're expecting just that!"

"What would you have me do, Watson? Yes, they await our arrival. But will they not continuously do so? Will waiting an hour, a day or even a week alter their plans in the slightest?"

I sighed deeply, knowing full well that he was right. Yet I still feared the outcome. These were no mere street thugs which we opposed. Our actions could not only drastically change the course of our own lives, but that of our country. What if Prince Edward or his son were shot and killed in the struggle that was doubtless to ensue? I could not bear to even consider the consequences of such an accident. Still I could not deny the validity of Holmes' argument. We _must_ do something.

"But Holmes, what if we should-"

"Watson, that little girl has been imprisoned for over two weeks now. I, for one, adamantly refuse to leave her there an instant longer."

I sighed deeply, trying not to concentrate on the effects of the situation.

"When do we leave?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes McKee, what is it?"

"Smithers just sent a message, sir. Sherlock Holmes is on his way back to the Lyceum."

Lord Hollingsworth lifted his gaze slowly from his work. "And the doctor?"

"He's with the detective, your lordship. It seems Smithers found him more of a difficulty than we'd expected."

"Blast!" Lord Hollingsworth rose from his desk and paced furiously about the room. "It would have been far simple without the doctor involved. I suppose it can't be helped now. Send word to the Duke and His Highness. Discreetly, mind you. We shall require their aid in order to complete this regrettable task. Tell them to meet us at the public house just a block down from the theatre."

"What do you intend to do, my lord?"

Lord Hollingsworth smiled thoughtfully. "Positively nothing, my dear fellow. I perceive that our two distinguished accomplices shall be quite capable of concluding the necessary removals."

"It seems a shame. They have only been trying to help the girl, after all."

"McKee, is this treason I hear falling from your lips? These men have conspired against the crown of England! If Prince Edward, or his son and heir demand their deaths, it is our duty, as loyal subjects, to provide them with any assistance possible. Do you dare to disagree?"

"Well sir, it just seems that the detective could be right. Why that little girls' only-"

"McKee, this task has been thrust upon you by the monarch of your country; it's either your life or theirs. I leave the decision up to you. Now leave me."

"Yes sir." McKee nodded quickly and departed.

Lord Hollingsworth slammed his fist down upon the desk. This simply would not do. He sincerely hoped nothing would come of McKee's sudden breach of loyalty.

No, he thought. It surely was a mere whim.


	13. Chapter 12: The Beginning Of The End

_Ok, just so you know before hand, I am **not **fond of this chapter. I don't think I do very good action sequences so yes, I know it could use a **lot **of work. :) Sorry for the wait & I hope you like it!_

_-VHunter_

* * *

****

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Twelve: The Beginning Of The End**

By the time darkness had fallen, Holmes and I were once again before the Lyceum Theatre. Though we saw no need for a great deal of secrecy upon this subsequent occasion. There were no signs of inhabitants anywhere. This place seemed to be perpetually deserted. It was as if all life had been forewarned of the impending battle.

Using a set of lock picks, Holmes and I entered the building through the backdoor. All was in darkness. I could see positively nothing, not even my companion who I could still feel standing just to the right of me.

Holmes had always been gifted with the remarkable ability to see without the aid of light. This power was demonstrated as he now took my arm and led me effortlessly through the blackness.

Once we reached the top of a staircase he struck a match. It looked to lead to a basement of some sort. We proceeded cautiously downward, knowing at any given moment the 'greeting party' might appear.

The door below was unlocked and creaked loudly as Holmes pushed it open before entering.

With the aid of a second match, I could see two long corridors stretching out before us. Holmes knelt and examined the floors of both.

"This way." He whispered, pointing to the left. "It's been traveled frequently of late. And by the Duke himself."

The corridor took a sharp right turn half way down and we were faced with yet another entryway. Though this door was bolted shut.

"Holmes!"

"Yes, I know. She must be here." He removed his tools once again from the inner pocket of his coat and set immediately to work. The bolt was a heavy one and quite new, thus it was at least a full fifteen minutes before the door swung freely.

A tiny flicker of candlelight at the far end of the longish room displayed numerous boxes and bags piled high along the walls. The light stood upon a small wooden night stand. A low cot had been positioned up against the back wall. On it, shivering in obvious terror, sat a little girl with, unkempt blonde curls and great fearful blue eyes staring up at us. She looked to be no older than six or possibly seven years of age. She was wearing only a disheveled nightdress. I knew her at once to be Jeanne Marie Langtry. The resemblance to her mother was extremely strong.

She began to whimper and shrank back as Holmes stepped toward her. He dropped to his knees aside her bed and took her grimy little hands in his.

"Do not fear, Jeanne, we are here only to help you. We've come to take you from this place. Do you understand?"

With a cry of immense relief the little girl impulsively threw her arms around his neck with clearly no intention of letting go. He lifted her into his arms and turned to face me.

"Watson, I perceive that we would be wise to affect our departure as swiftly as is humanly possible."

"Indeed you would, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!"

I turned round to see Prince Edward, his son, Alan McKee and Smithers enter the room. I looked to Holmes for instructions but his countenance was set as stone.

Jeanne Marie began to weep at the sight of her captor. All but Smithers bore revolvers which were unfortunately trained directly upon us.

His Highness stepped forward. "Well done, Mr. Holmes. You've accomplished the feat I did not request of you. Now if you'll just hand over my daughter, I shall see to it that the Lyceum does not press charges for burglary."

"I entered to do you no such service. Physical contributions aside, this child is no more your daughter than mine. Therefore you bear no claim to her."

"Is that so? Then just what, may I ask, do you intend to do with her? Turn her back over to Albert for the purpose of further monetary extraction?"

"By no means is that my intention. But as it was I, and not you who was successful in removing her from his power, I do not see how my choice is any of your concern."

"Why you-!"

"Insults will avail you nothing, Your Highness. I beg of you to not waste time and energy in such a manner."

I stared incredulously at my companion. This was the first I'd heard of such talk. What on earth _did_ he intend to do with the child?

The Duke attempted to calm his irate father, and addressed us. "Here now, let's be done with this idiocy. How much do you want?"

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace?" Holmes asked.

"Confound it man, don't play the fool with me! Name your price!"

"I ask no price except that of justice which is not yours to give. I will not free this child from your hands only to thrust her back into the uncaring hands of her mother or her father that she may be forced to endure further ill-treatment. If any of you should attempt to re-claim her, or take any action against us, I shall be compelled to publicly provide proofs as to the identity of her father."

Prince Edward laughed. "I do not see you in the position to do any such thing."

I must admit to bearing no small amount of confusion myself. They held us very much in their power, at least for the present. I could see no route of rapid escape. Especially not with a six year old child in tow.

Our opposition once again demanded that Holmes give up the girl he held, and once again he refused.

"Very well." Prince Edward said resolutely. "You leave us no alternative...Mr. Smithers, take her!" He then shouted, pointing at Jeanne Marie.

The burly henchman revealed a long bladed knife and stepped eagerly toward them. In a fair fight I would have been unconcerned; my friend could easily incapacitate such a vulgar adversary. But in consideration of Jeanne Marie, who was still clinging to Holmes, I did not see how he would manage to effectively defend himself.

I drew my revolver only to be narrowly missed by a bullet from the Dukes' weapon. I fired a warning shot of my own over their heads, while rapidly taking cover. Though in doing so, I was driven farther away from Holmes and the girl.

Smithers had backed them into a corner, just as another shot whizzed over my head. Out of my peripheral vision I saw Smithers leap forward just as Prince Edward dashed to a closer vantage point and fired again. Between the Prince and his son, I was quite effectively pinned down, and completely helpless to aid Holmes in any way.

I came to the conclusion that a simple defensive position would not be sufficient if we were to survive this situation. Ducking around the side of my shelter I fired in rapid succession, both over and aside the crates behind which the Duke was concealed. In his panic he overstepped, placing himself directly in my line of fire.

He cried out in pain as my third shot struck his thigh. Forgetting the danger, his father ran to aid him.

A child's terrified scream snapped my attention to the confrontation taking place across the room. Holmes and Smithers stood braced against the wall, locked in a vicious struggle for the child. Jeanne Marie was caught directly in between the two men. A deep red stain was splattered over her nightdress and Holmes' clothing as well, though I could not see from whence it came. I stood to go to their aid just as another shot was discharged in my direction. It just missed my side, going so far as to sear the inner part of my sleeve. In one fluid motion I turned and fired, striking His Highnesses right shoulder. He fell beside his offspring with a string of curses. I breathed a prayer of thanks that I had been able to avoid inflicting any permanent damage on our opponents thus far.

Jeanne Marie cried out again as Smithers fought to reach her with his right hand while still bearing the knife in his left. Holmes turned her away from him, holding off his attempts with his free arm. Smithers slashed in ruthless retaliation at my friend with his weapon. I ran forward with the staunch intention of putting a bullet through the monsters' brain.

But before I had taken ten steps a loud crack was heard, and Smithers fell limp upon the ground, dropping his bloodied knife.

I stopped short at the sight of Allan McKee standing over the form of his associate with a revolver in one hand and a thick lead pipe in the other. He seemed to be horridly confused by his own actions. Taking advantage of his disorientation, I placed myself in between him and Holmes.

Other than his lacerated right arm, Holmes was unharmed. Jeanne Marie, though thoroughly terrified, was completely unhurt.

The three of us looked expectantly at McKee, unsure of his intentions. The man seemed entirely lost. He gaze jerked back and forth from us to Prince Edward and the Duke, the internal battle easy to read in his eyes.

With a nod of finality, he turned and shoved a stack of crates over to reveal a door that we had not before seen.

"Quick, this leads to the second corridor. It will take you straight out. Hurry, Lord Hollingsworth wasn't far behind us."

I turned to do as he said, but Holmes hesitated, still suspiciously eyeing at our rescuer. McKee shook his head slowly.

"I let him talk me into a lot of things I didn't think were quite right, saying it was for the good of the country and all. But going after adults is one thing; this one's not much younger than my own daughter. I just couldn't stand by and watch Smithers murder you while you tried to protect her. Now please go, Mr. Holmes, before it's too late!"

"Thank you." Holmes replied quickly before turning to lead the way down the dark passage.

We felt our way along the walls until we reached the outer door that led to freedom. Holmes flung it open and we burst forth from the darkness into the alleyway behind the theatre.

"This way!" Holmes said before turning from the alley toward the main street. I ran to follow him but he halted abruptly and stepped slowly back.

"What is it Holmes?" He said nothing but stared at a figure before us who stood hidden in the shadows, the glint of a metallic weapon just visible in his hand.

"My, my, what do we have here?" Answered a voice that I knew belonged to Lord Hollingsworth himself.


	14. Chapter 13: Consequential Choices

_Hi guys!_

_Two weeks and no updates! I should be beat with a two by four, I know. I am so so sorry everybody! Ya'll have been so great and given me such awesome reviews, I am truly ashamed of myself. I went on vacation last week and just got sidetracked from there. _

_Plus, I'm a huge Phantom phan, and I've recently discovered that the "Phantom of the Opera" section has some pretty good stories! So I must admit I've been somewhat slack. But I'm back now! This chapter is partly slower, but this is near the ending so we're winding down. I think all that's left is a bit of clearing up in the epilogue. I hope ya'll aren't too disappointed with this ending, but to be painfully honest I really wasn't enitirely sure how to defeat my own villain! Sad, I know. lol_

_Thanks so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy!_

_-VHunter :)_

* * *

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Chapter Thirteen: Consequential Choices**

"I must say that you've done far better than I should have expected, Sherlock Holmes. I see you unfortunately sustained some small injury." Lord Hollingsworth said, with a gesture toward Holmes' bloodied arm.

"And you've sunk farther than I would've ever surmised, Hollingsworth. Exacting your petty revenge using children. I would have preferred you face me yourself."

"I've not harmed the child a wit."

"No, you merely took advantage of her situation when you should have put an immediate stop to it. If only your adoring public could see you now, engrossed in your true profession."

"In my actions I have done nothing but attempt to protect my country from misguided fools who think they know how better to run it. You are a threat to the well being of England! You place the contentment of the people before the well being of the nation itself!"

I could not help but respond. "The nation _is_ the people! What else have we to protect? Lives should be considered over political frustration. Yet, you trample over the loss of life as if it were a mere figure on a scale!"

"Enough, Watson. Nothing you have to say will effectively alter the course of his mind. His conscience was seared long ago."

His lordship sighed as if bored by the entire affair. "I shall be delighted to discuss my moral state whenever you wish once you and your associate are safely behind bars. Now, put the girl down and step away."

Jeanne Marie held tightly to Holmes' coat and looked up at him to view his response. He said nothing, only looked on defiantly. Lord Hollingsworth raised his weapon to eye level.

"Set her down or I shall be forced to shoot you myself."

"Would you?"

I gave them no opportunity to find out. Not stopping to think, I fired my last round directly at our nemesis. Lord Hollingsworth clutched at his chest; a look of pure shock marring his features, and fell to the ground.

I stood stock still, petrified to think that I might have killed him. I looked down to find that my hands were trembling. Holmes grasped my shoulder.

"I'm sorry Holmes, but-"

"My dear Watson, do not apologize, I beg of you. There was nothing else to be done. But he may yet live; I do not think you've struck his heart."

I knelt beside the prostrate figure, attempting to push aside the bombardment of images that assaulted my mind. If he were dead, I could easily be hung for it. Holmes might be charged as an accomplice, what would happen to the child? Taking a deep breath I turned him over and felt for a pulse. I faint throbbing met my finger tips.

"He's alive!" I fairly shouted.

"Thank God." Holmes joined me upon the ground, looking over the man. "But only just. Quick Watson! Can you carry him?"

"Yes, I think so."

With Lord Hollingsworth laid as gently as possible over my shoulder, I followed Holmes out onto the streets. We met no one, as it was half past one in the morning.

Holmes, still carrying the child, managed to find a cab. I placed my burden inside and shut the door.

" Charing Cross Hospital, cabby, and be swift for your passenger is gravely injured!" I urged as Holmes paid the driver in advance.

We were compelled to traverse two blocks before we located a second cab. Hailing this, we made for Baker Street.

It was a silent journey homeward. Holmes sat lost in his own musings, and Jeanne Marie, finally feeling at least somewhat safe, drifted off to a contented sleep upon Holmes' shoulder. I was more than willing to keep company with my own thoughts and amazement at our severely narrow escape.

Had it not been for McKee's interference, Holmes would surely have been dead or at least seriously injured before I could have reached them. I prayed the man would not suffer greatly for his compassionate decision.

The clock struck two as we alighted. I was never so glad to reach our rooms. Holmes went directly to his bedroom to lay down the sleeping girl. My gaze drifted to her dirty little night dress now also stained with blood.

"Holmes, surely we should-"

"No, I'll not wake her. She's been through quite enough for one night." He whispered and motioned me out, closing the door behind us.

Upon returning to the sitting room I made a move to check Holmes' injuries but he waved me off.

"Please Watson, it is nothing. Mere scratches."

"Holmes, you must at least allow me to look at your arm. You've lost far more blood than mere scratches would permit."

He grudgingly acquiesced. I was grateful to find that though the gashes inflicted by Smithers' knife were fairly deep, no muscle had been torn and should heal nicely in time.

Having cleaned and bandaged the wounds, I poured myself a drink and sat near the cold fireplace. Neither of us possessed the energy to light it. Holmes took his pipe from the rack and collapsed upon the sofa with a deep sigh.

"I suppose it is foolish to hope we've seen the end of this affair?" I ventured.

"I see no reason why that should be so. The Duke is incapable of charging us with anything as it would reveal the truth of his own crimes. Prince Edward will take no action in fear of his precious reputation. And I should say neither of them will permit Lord Hollingsworth to make any mention of the past proceedings. Though in his case our actions could easily be proved as self defence. You need not let it concern you."

"But Holmes, you will eventually have to take the child back. Surely you must realize that."

"To what end, Watson? What good would I have then accomplished? In removing her from one worthless parent only to give her to another; who's to say this exact process won't be repeated numerous times over?"

"Holmes, she's _their_ child."

"I will _not_ take her back."

"That's kidnapping!"

"Then I am a kidnapper." He stated with a definite air of finality.

The subject was closed for discussion and well I knew it.

"Then just what _do_ you intend to do with a six year old child? You cannot be thinking of keeping her here!?"

"Really Watson, I am not so great a fool. Prince Edward will certainly attempt to reclaim her should she remain within his reach. Thus she cannot stay in London. Tomorrow morning I will remove her to a location where I may be certain that she will unharmed, undetected, and well cared for."

"Holmes, if they do manage to somehow find her, the consequences-"

"Watson...I will_ not_ leave her at their mercy again...I cannot."

I understood his point, I even agreed with his reasons. But this course of action was so terribly dangerous for all involved. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps it would be more of a sin to return her than to keep her. I was far too exhausted at the time to be certain of anything.

Draining my glass, I rose to take my leave.

"Very well, Holmes. I shall abide by your wishes."

"I thank you, Watson...and Watson?"

"Yes?"

"Your contributions in this undertaking were greatly appreciated. You've again proved yourself quite the invaluable friend and assistant."

"You're certainly welcome, Holmes. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'd not been asleep for more than a few hours when I was awakened by the vicious shaking of our housekeeper. Our recent perils still quite fresh in my mind, I was at once alert.

"What is it Mrs. Hudson? What's happened?"

"I know Mr. Holmes has been involved in some secretive business lately, but I simply must know just what he's up to, in light of the circumstances!"

"Mrs. Hudson, whatever are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about!? Why, you just come and see for yourself, Doctor!" She said, tugging on my sleeve.

Donning my dressing gown, I wearily followed her down to the sitting room.

"You just do me the kindness of explaining _that!"_ She whispered while pointing to the sofa.

The sight that met my eyes was one that I could be certain to never see again. Had I not seem them for myself I should never have been persuaded to believe it.

Sherlock Holmes lay asleep upon the sofa, his pipe fallen to the carpet. Sprawled over his chest, also very much asleep, was Jeanne Marie. Her little arms were wrapped securely about his neck, a gentle smile over her features. She was no longer afraid. Holmes was right. She'd been through so much, how could we, in good conscience; deliberately return her to such a position? We would do what we must, and pray that God would see fit to bless our efforts.

As I turned to follow our housekeeper from the room, I could not help but smile. It would seem that at least one woman had succeeded in reaching his heart.


	15. Epilogue: An Unforeseen Conclusion

_Nay, your eyes do not deceive you! The Epilogue of AMOC has at last arrived!!!! I know, I should be kicked from here to Charing Cross. Truly! But it was really just one thing after another...first my computer broke down and took the first half of this last chapter with it. Then I went on vacation and pretty much forgot all about the entire poor story, then I managed to fix my computer and salvage the first piece, but by then I'd already moved on to writing tons of other stuff and just couldn't seem to get back in the AMOC mood, you know?? Then the reviews starting coming in...:) And y'all all sent me off on a guilt trip! So here I should like to thank:_

**FormerCircusTeapot**

**Locky's Princess**

**MoonlitPuddle**

**Saru Wolfe**

**Ariajack**

**Amelia McDermid**

_And a VERY special thanks to _**Susicar**_ who gave me one final push! lol _

_Thus, due to all of your wondrous encouragement, I am able to present to you this Epilogue which was written atop a tech booth, in the midst of Act II of a Christmas play. Rather a dramatic setting is it not? _

_I know this last bit leaves several things hanging, but that's rather the idea. I intended to leave some stuff open. As if their effect was never brought about, but always bore the possibility. Anyway, I'll let you get to reading now, and say a bit more after wards. _

_(Audience groans loudly)_

* * *

**"A Matter Of Caste"**

**Epilogue: An Unforeseen Conclusion**

Those next few days were some of the longest I've ever experienced. Every time the doorbell rang I was convinced that we were to be arrested. Or worse.

Holmes had taken Jeanne Marie away that very next morning as he had promised and returned the day after seeming quite content.

I could not help but feel that this case would never truly be closed. As long as we alone knew the whereabouts of the Prince of Englands' illegitamate daughter, our very lives would be in jeopardy. Yet that same fact was what had protected us thus far.

Precisely ten days after the incidents at the Lyceum, as I sat awaiting our breakfast, I opened the mornings paper and read to Holmes the intriging account of Lord Hollingsworths' 'hunting accident' from which he had received a serious bullet wound. My friend, who was deep in the midst of some heinous chemical experiment, found it quite amusing.

"Ha! You see Watson, even his lordship is capable of being useful when he puts his mind to it. We could not have concocted any better explanation ourselves. You will note that no mention is made of His Highness Prince Edward and the Duke. Of course, I assume that three hunting misfortunes in one week might appear a little conspicuous."

I laughed with him. "I must admit that upon that night I did not think we would be seeing these rooms again. We were extremely fortunate to get away as easily as we did. Surely now you can tell me where exactly you've placed Jeanne Marie Langtry?"

Holmes shook his head slowly. "No Watson. Such knowledge may very well prove to be a dangerous possession. There is no need at present."

"But Holmes, if something were to happen, don't you think someone other than yourself should-"

The sound of Mrs. Hudsons' tread upon the stair interrupted my intended question. I rose and opened the door for her.

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Just the morning post, Doctor. It came just a few minutes ago, and I thought I'd bring it up before breakfast."

I took the several letters from her. "Thank you."

Returning to my chair by the fire, I proceeded to scan over the mail then placed the four letters upon the table. "Nevermind Holmes, there is no need of an explanation as I have already discerned her whereabouts."

Holmes snapped round from his work, a look of almost, shock over his features. "Whatever do you mean, Watson?"

I sniffed languidly and sat back in my chair. "It's really quite simple, my dear fellow. You are not the only one who is capable of using logic and deduction."

"Pray elucidate." He said with a distrustful glance.

"The child obviously must be given a place of shelter that is remote and practically unknown by either of her parents. The girl must also be provided with an education. A girls' boarding school suggusts itself immediately. Now, I can not imagine that you, though possessing knowledge of a wide variety, are connected with any of the best schools for girls. Thus, it is only logical that you should choose the one school with which you are familiar. With whose mistress you are familiar. In my recollection, there is only one such lady."

I shall never forget the look with which I was rewarded. It seemed that for once, I held the upper hand.

"Name this lady."

"Miss Violet Hunter."

Holmes leapt from his chair and crossed to the mantle in search of his briarwood.

"Am I not correct, Holmes?"

He turned about to face me. "Entirely."

I gave a smile of smug satisfaction and returned to purusing the newspaper.

"Yes you are absolutely accurate in your inferences. And though your deductive powers are in as poor form as ever, I truly must congratulate you on your powers of observation."

"What on earth do you mean?"

He lifted a particular letter from the table and held it in front of me."From Walsall, where you know Miss Hunters' school to reside, in the nearly illegible hand of a small child. Really, what other conclusion could you reach, Watson?"

"How on earth did you know?"

"How else would you have divulged my chosen location so swiftly?" He replied with a slight smirk.

I frowned heavily and turned again to my newspaper. Holmes opened his letter and sat before the fire to puruse it.

"I trust she is well?" I questioned with a slight air of apathy.

"Quite. I would venture to presume she surpasses her fellow pupils." He answered. I detected a glimmer of pride is his usually cold, grey eyes.

I rose and looked over his shoulder to read the childish writing.

"Dear Mister Holmes,

Schoole is so much fun. I am so glade you sent me to it. I love arithmatik and sience best. Speling is a litle harde. Pleeze tel the dokter helo. I hope you cum soone.

P.S. Thanke you Mister Holmes for saving me. I won't forget ever.

Yore frend,

Jeanne Marie Langtry

"Thank God for Lord Hollingsworth." I whispered, rapidly capturing my friends' attention.

"I beg your pardon?"

"If his lordship had not sought to revenge himself upon you, that Miss May Helane would never have informed us of the kidnapping. Little Jeanne Marie would have remained her half brothers' prisoner. Nothing but a bit of leverage in foolish game of power. You would never have been able to extricate her and offer her the ability to live a life without fear. She would have been quite lost, amid a mass of hatred, jealousy and indifference. She may have even died in that dark cellar."

Holmes rose and set the child's letter upon the mantle. "How right you are, Watson. The ways of Providence are truly to be marveled. Seemingly hopeless and frightful circumstances more often than not evolve for our own benefit."

He spun round again to face me, a mischeivous smile playing about his lips.

"Thank God for Lord Hollingsworth, indeed."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

__

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER - June 30th, 1902

I leaned a bit closer to the mirror, adjusting my silken cravet. Finally satisfied with it's position, I took the invitation from my dressing table and glanced over it once more.

You are cordially invited to join in the celebration of the

union of

Jeanne Marie Langtry

and

Sir Ian Malcolm of Poltalloch

On June the 30th

at nine o'clock

St. Margaret's Westminster

(There will be no reception following the ceremony.)

I could not help but smile. The child whom we'd once rescued from a dank, theatre basement so many years ago, had grown into a lovely young woman.

Eventually, her mother had come to us begging to be reconciled with her daughter. Holmes arranged several meetings for the two of them before he at last disclosed her daughter's location. Jeanne Marie's father, Prince Edward, died of a severe heart attack only one month before the wedding. Meaning no disrespect to the dead, it was rather a relief to everyone. To the day of his death he never forgave Sherlock Holmes for his interference. Nor did he ever again see his illigitimate daughter.

Jeanne Marie had continued to correspond with my friend throughout her years at school. Though he never spoke of such things, it was obvious to me that he was quite proud of her acheivments.

Thus I was somewhat surprised when I received an invitation to the girls' wedding, and my friend did not.

I attempted to discreetly question him upon the matter but he would say nothing of it.

Pulling myself from my musings, I took my hat and cane from the rack and made my way to Holmes' room to inform him that I would be taking my leave.

I was quite surprised to find him up and dressed in his finest suit. He stood peering into the looking glass, smoothing down his hair.

"Holmes...?"

He turned abruptly. "Ah yes Watson, all ready?"

"Well yes, but I thought..."

"That I would not be joining you? How entirely foolish of you to think so, even I would not miss so great an occasion. My utter detestation for social functions notwithstanding."

"But Holmes, _did_ you receive an invitation?"

He glanced over at me as he took up his hat and gloves and moved toward the front door.

"By no means."

I followed him out onto the street in a state of sheer befuddlement. I was quite unsure how to explain to my social deficiant friend that one simply _did not_ attend a wedding without an invitation. He was, after all, the most unconventional of men.

"Watson are you coming?" He asked with a suspicious look. I strode over to the hansom which he had summoned and took a deep breath.

"Holmes...you must...well, you can't exactly..."

He suddenly laughed aloud. "My dear Watson, it would have been quite superfluous of Jeanne Marie to send me an invitation...particularly as I have been asked to give the bride away."

I awarded him with an open mouthed expression of shock.

"Why did you not mention it, Holmes!?"

He smiled furtively. "I was certain that you had already reached such a conclusion yourself, Watson. I must say I am rather dissapointed."

We boarded the hansom and departed.

I shook my head slowly. "Cold, calculating machine of logic...Ha."

Holmes sniffed slightly. "Have I not before stated that you perhaps have erred in your literary depictions, Watson?"

I laughed quietly. Perhaps I had indeed.

_Terminus_

* * *

_And that's it! Wow, after three months I finally completed it! (pats self on back) Quite a accomplishment. Btw: I wasn't going to add in that last part originally, it's a little AU, but I truly couldn't help it. The idea just wouldn't leave me alone. So, you can kinda take it as an extra rather than actually part of the story. If that makes any sense at all. hehe _

_I hope you all enjoyed it, please let me know! And thanks SO much for reading!_

And now, a few notes to Saru Wolfe and anyone else who loves history:

_This entire story surrounds the actual life events of Prince Edward, Duke Albert, Lillie & Jeanne Marie Langtry, and even Sir Ian Malcolm. All the dates and locations are true to history. The Lyceum was an actual theatre, and the actor William Hunter-Kendal really was working there at the time. _

_My greatest changes were these: Prince Edward was not, in fact, Jeanne Marie's father. Prince Louis of Battenberg__ was._

_Lillie Langtry was supposedly very good to her daughter, but she did send her to live with her grandmother and didn't see her again until she was four. Even then Jeanne Marie didn't know that Lillie was her mother. _

_Prince Edward died in 1910 rather than 1902._

_All my facts, times and places were taken from Wikipedia & http:// www. hurstmereclose. freeserve. co. uk _

_And just an interesting little tidbit of history: _

_Duke Albert was once suspected of being the actual Jack the Ripper, but was never 'officially' accused because it was proven that he was elsewhere during one of the murders. He died only three years after this story of mine takes place._

_And I must admit that doing all that research was quite a bit more difficult than making it all up myself! But I really love history. I'm so glad you appreciate all my hard work! If anyone has any questions feel free to ask, I'd be happy to help!_

_Ok, I am so NOT writing as third one of these as I've entirely run out of ideas on how to make Lord Hollingsworth commit crimes without breaking the law. I think he's stretched it just about as far as it'll go. But you never know, I might be struck with a stroke of genius some day in the far off distant, very dis tint future...:)_

_But, I do have another story that quite finished and ready to be presented to an adoring public! lol It's quite a departure from the kinds of things I usually write...some folks are BOUND to label me a hypocrite for it even, hehe. But I think some of you would truly enjoy it. It's the book I mentioned before, and it's actually stretched into a two part series with several oneshots after wards. I'm afraid it's looong. But I hope you like it anyway! I should be posting the first chapter sometime next week, so stay tuned!_

_And a final thank you and many XOXO's to all my splendorific reviewers! You guys are WONDERFUL!_

_The Horrendously Long Winded,_

_VHunter_


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